


What happens at Stark Tower

by JeffersonStarships



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffersonStarships/pseuds/JeffersonStarships
Summary: A one shot with some smut and a few bits of banter that make me smile.





	What happens at Stark Tower

Stark’s living room is packed with people. Mutants, mutates, nonmutants. Heroes, vigilantees, civilians, all shoulder to shoulder without pretense and barely any preamble. There were even a few obviously mutated people mixed in the crowd, a people who didn’t usually show up to semi-public events like this. 

The invitation was widespread, to all the heroes in the city along with friends or family if they wished. ‘All you need is your dancing shoes. No masks allowed!!!’

Jarvis was the doorman, only allowing entry after a full body scan to verify they are really heroes or trusted vigalantees. It was a trust building exercise, Peter knew. Give a little, get a little. Giving up the scan meant unfettered access to Stark, to the Avengers. It means the chance to rub elbows with potential allies.

There was enough free food at least, even if the amount of people only seemed to be growing with each passing second.

Peter had come without a mask, spotted a few Avengers, X-men, and The Four mingled into the crowds. They didn’t see him. That, at least, had his shoulders slumping with relief. No one knew what he looked like without the mask, and Peter had installed a voice modulator in his suit near the beginning. He’s pretty sure he could go and squee at Tony for a selfie and the older man wouldn’t even know it was his favorite web-slinger.

There was a huge dance floor, and Peter found himself posted on the internal balcony overlooking it without really knowing why. His spider sense was calm, and he was far as he could get from all the people he recognized. His eyes lingered down on the swarm of people, moving to a beat Peter felt slide up his spine like a warm hand, like a mouth against his pulse.

Someone slid along Peter’s back as they passed, not paying attention to where they were going.

He watched the back of Johnny Storm swaying away with an arm around a pretty woman’s hip. Though Peter couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, he rolled his eyes at the shwarm practically oozing off the guy and that she was eating up.

“Disgusting isn’t it?” Peter glanced over at his new elbow partner, a simply devastatingly attractive man with a close buzz cut, a scar through a dark eyebrow, and eyes so blue they gave Captain America a run for his money.

Peter huffed out a disbelieving laugh, checking over his shoulders that the guys wasn’t talking to someone else. When he turned back, the stranger had quirked his mouth into a smirk, “Yeah, I’m talking to you Babyboy, keep up won’t ya? Doesn’t young love just make you want to vomit?”

Somewhere in Peter’s mind he felt something click into place in his brain. He recognized that voice. Deadpool.

“I wouldn’t call that love,” Peter quirked a smile, when Deadpool cut his eyes back to Peter.

“So who are you,” the ex-merc leered, “They just letting anyone in?”

“Me?” he asked giggling slightly, Spider-Man had gotten his invitation, Peter would be willing to bet a year’s salary that Deadpool had broke into the tower somehow. “What about you?”

“I’ll have you know I am an official axillary Avenger,” he whipped out his laminated Shield ID card with Deadpool’s masked face (a consideration not made for most) and signature, a card Peter was well acquainted with because ‘Pool had literally pinned it to his suit for month, and because Peter had a limited access card himself for emergencies.

Peter tapped at his lips with a thoughtful hum, “How do I know it isn’t a fake?”

Wade’s brows furrowed, and he stepped right in front of Peter with a look like murder, boxing Peter in with his arms, “Oh I’d save your life all night long,” he growled with both a promise and a threat.

In any other circumstance, Peter would have written Deadpool off. The amount of flirtation he had to put up with from the antihero on a daily basis made this feel almost subtle in comparison. ‘Pool’d packed away hero worship long ago and traded it in for downright obsession. He’d once showed up to a fight of the week in full Spider-Man merchandise fan fair, pissed that someone had interrupted his Hero Con.

But Peter wasn’t Spider-Man right now and Wade wasn’t Deadpool. For all intents and purposes, they were just some plain clothes civies crashing a party meant for heroes and their kin.

Maybe Wade had just singled him out because he wanted to test out the image inducer, but he’d singled him out all the same.

He pulls his eyes up to meet the blue-blue of Wade’s, the same eyes and color of the ex-merc usually sports. Actually, even the bone structure of the face on the inducer looks like Wade in a way. A too beautiful to look at version, but definitively like an alternate reality Wade Wilson.

The kind of guy Peter shouldn’t have a chance with. If Peter didn’t already know who was under the inducer, he’d be so out of his league.

Wade leans further into Peter’s personal space, his eyes now resting hotly on Peter’s mouth, “I showed you mine. Now’s the time you show me yours, sweetheart.”

He smirks, “I don’t think I should tell you, Deadpool. I have to maintain the mystery.”

“The mystery huh, Babyboy?” Wade says raising a brow, “What makes you think I don’t already got you all figured out?”

The smirk didn’t vanish from Peter. He just leaned into Wade, their faces inches apart when Peter bluffed so hard, “You’d never figure me out, I’m an enigma. A paradox.” He leaned his head to the side and bat his eyelashes feeling a wayward blush stain his cheeks when his eyes strayed to Wade’s mouth, “You’d never figure me out.”

Wade is watching him almost in disbelief when Peter looks back into his blue-blue eyes. He didn’t expect Peter to flirt back. Peter didn’t either, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

He moved slow enough for Wade to pull away, only closing his eyes just before their lips connected, getting to see the man’s pupils ease open, to see Wade tip his head toward Peter before put an hand to his chest and pushed the other man away, getting a baffled look before he huffed out a laugh, “You really think I’m that easy, Wade Wilson?”

The confusion changed to realization at the name. Not many people connected Deadpool to his real name. Even as a regular employee of Shield, he wasn’t a big time, household name. Only heroes or select Shield members could connect those dots.

“Fuck!” Wade threw his hands up, then ripped of the image inducer revealing Deadpool’s scared and pitted face, “I knew it couldn’t outsmart the fancy doorman machine, but it doesn’t even fool randos? Is this fucking thing busted?”

Peter relaxed a bit at Wade’s dramatics, which were anything but new. He turned his back to the dance floor and leant against the glass and steel railing crossing his arms over his chest, watching Deadpool hold the smart piece of technology up to the light with increasing distress, “Is that a tear? I can’t tell! – STOP YELLING WHITE, I NEED TO THINK!”

Peter dropped his eyes from Wade’s frazzled face to the tech between his fingers.

He snatched it away, and tested the weight in his own fingers, “Let me tell you your first mistake,” he ducked under Wade’s arm when he tried to grab at him, dancing away when Wade grabbed again. He walked backwards toward the open doors to the patio and shook the mask at Wade, “You can’t choose the hottest setting this thing has. That’s just armature hour.”

“I didn’t-“

He ducked as Wade rushed him, following the anti-hero out onto the balcony where he’d tripped. He grabbed out his compact tool set from his back pocket and sat at an empty table, using his tools to open up the little housing at the back of the neck of the mask. Then pulled out his burner phone and connected it to the mask with the USB attachment.

Wade looked up from his faceplant with a frown, before sticking out a lip, and crawling over to the patio chair to join him. “But I worked so haaarrd,” he complained.

Peter set him a pitying look, Wade rarely earned those from Peter but the sadness on the ex-merc’s face just deserved it.

“Dude, you looked like a Ryan Reynold’s knock off, no one’s that good looking in real-“ Peter stopped himself short as he found the data inside the inducer. There were a handful of reference photos for the mask to emulate and every one of them looked like they were real photos, the kind everyone takes of themselves. And the more Peter looks the more of Wade he can see in them. The more he realizes that these are Wade’s ‘Before Weapon X’ photos, and he was just as hot as the inducer had shown.

“Oh fuck,” he collapses back into his chair. He’s such an idiot.

He looks up at Wade who is looking down at the inducer with forlorn eyes, “Yeah, ‘oh fuck.’ I ustta be pretty.”

Peter bit his lip and started putting the inducer back together. “Sorry.”

Wade made an uncomfortable noise but took back the inducer when Peter held it out. “The ugly life is hard, boo,” he griped, stuffing the tech back in his pocket, “Don’t know why I even-“

“I saw Hulk naked once,” Peter interrupts packing his tool back in their carrying case, “And let me tell you-“ he whistled through he teeth, “_That_ was hard to look at. In comparison you don’t look too bad.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Wade stared wide eyed at Peter, making the young hero giggle. “What?” he asked slipping the case back in his pocket.

Wade turned away, his forehead wrinkling with concentration. He looked speechless, Peter’s not sure he’s ever seen Wade pull off such a feat, but then again Peter Parker was a bit less squee worthy apparently than Spider-Man.

Peter brought his thumb up to his mouth, chewing on his nail. This is such a weird dynamic. Spider-Man and Deadpool two bros sitting on a patio. Ten feet apart because they’re not gay… well maybe not the last part. Peter choked on his own spit.

“In what context would you have seen the hulk’s dick?” Wade asked as Peter hacked out a lung. His coughing turns into a full body laugh, much to Wade’s confusion, which only leads to more laughing. By the time he gets ahold of himself Wade is staring at him.

“You’re funny,” is all Peter replies, standing up and offering the other man a hand up.

Wade takes it and Peter doesn’t show off and use super strength just make Wade giggle like a school girl, even though he kinda wants to, but Peter isn’t Spider-Man right now and that would be a huge give away.

Peter looks up at the straightened antihero and can’t help the draw of Wade’s eyes as they bore into his. They’re so close that Peter can feel Wade’s body heat through their clothes.

"What?” Wade asks looked truly perplexed, “Never seen ugly this close before?”

Peter smirks something sad, of course Deadpool wouldn’t see that Peter was still attracted to him.

Instead of replying Peter perks himself up to the scant inches between them and touches a gentle kiss to the corner of Wade’s mouth. It’s almost a kiss. An almost thing in a sea of almost things that encompass Peter’s life.

Almost an Avenger. Almost a college graduate. Almost normal. Almost spectacular.

Almost in love.

But Peter can’t love Deadpool. The world doesn’t work like that. Though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the glimpses of _Wade_ he’s seen over the years. Even if the antihero doesn’t have the time of day for just regular Peter Parker when Spider-Man is a more appealing side.

When Peter drops back to his heels, Deadpool is frozen in shock and Peter doesn’t have to be an expert in hasty retreats to see one is required right now. But he doesn’t make it more than a step away before his wrist is caught in a loose grasp.

That’s all it takes.

Because then Peter is in Wade’s arms, his own wrapped over the man’s shoulders as his brain melts from his skull with the intensity of Wade’s mouth on his own.

Peter for the life of him can’t tell you how the two of them get from the balcony to one of Stark’s rooms but reality crashes into Peter when his calves hit mattress and he falls back with two hundred pounds of pure muscled man on top of him.

“Jesus Christ,” Peter gasps even as his own hands slide down Wade’s pants to grab his ass. “Holy fucking hell,” he groans.

“Don’t stop,” Wade growls against his mouth, and Peter couldn’t even if he tried.

He’s drunk on Wade’s mouth, his lips, his tongue. Drowning in the heat of it all. The swarm of spiders in his gut alive with pleasure as Wade dips his hands into the front of Peter’s jeans.

Who the fuck undid his fly and when?

“Fuck!” Peter cries as Wade bites at his neck, sucking marks and bruises that have Peter’s toes curling in his shoes. Peter wrangles a hand between them to unbutton Wade’s fly before he’s pushing his jeans down the bigger man’s thighs.

Their bare dicks collide and slide together between their sweat-moist, bucking hips.

Wade makes a hoarse sound against Peter’s ear before growling feircely, “_Don’t stop_.”

Peter curls his arm around Wade’s head and kisses him like he means it as he slides his other hand up Wade’s scared back under his shirt.

He feels so good on Peter’s palm. His lips. His tongue. His skin.

“Don’t stop,” Peter agrees and pushes Wade back just enough to look him in the eyes. So blue eyes. Peter’s seen them a million times. Seen the happy and sad and excitement them. He’s seen them shine with tears and dry from pain. He’s seen the life leave them and seen it return.

He loves every shade of them. Every texture of blue.

And watching Wade, now? Watching his eyes dark with lust, but bright with tears? Peter can’t breathe. Can’t catch his breath.

It’s like watching every sunset with Wade with his mask off all over again and all at once. Like every deep belly laugh or deep-down smile.

And when Wade clamps his eyes shut before his comes, Peter cradles the man’s face in his hands and kisses him just as breathless as Peter feels.

God in heaven, Peter’s never come as hard as he does when Wade shakes apart in his arms, and he’s never cared less about the release of it then he does when he wraps Wade in his arms before the larger man can run. He’s never quite felt so overwhelmed when Wade blinks up at him like Peter just touched his soul.

Peter’s never felt so soul bare. Raw and open and scared.

But Wade doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know Spider-Man is almost in love with him.

And whatever this was to Wade, it didn’t mean what it meant to Peter.

But it doesn’t matter, not right now.

Peter drops his head back into the pillows and cradles Wade’s head on his chest as the other man settles over him. He pets down the back of Wade’s head with one hand and holds Wade’s fingers to his mouth with the other. Kissing across him palm and down his wrist, sucking marks when he feels like it. When he finds a scar to trace with his tongue and wants to linger. When Wade groans softly at the contact.

Until Wade is asleep on top of him.

It’s the best few moments of his life until his burner phone starts to ring in his pants’ pocket. The pants still around his ankles. Fuck.

He has to use superstrength to push Wade off of him and to the comfort of the mattress. Luckily, Wade doesn’t wake up, but Peter still has to scramble for his phone, barely answering before it goes to voicemail, “Aunt May,” he whispers as he answers.

“Why are we whispering?” she asks as Peter slides off the bed pulling up his boxers and pants over the cum-sticky mess on his pelvis and thighs.

“May,” Peter blushes and she starts to laugh loudly. Peter puts his hand over the speaker and turns to see if Wade was disturbed, but he looked fairly unconscious.

“Am I interrupting something?” she teases loudly.

Peter skirts out the door and closes it behind himself, ducking his head as a drunk party goer stumbles down the hall with her equally drunk girl friend, both mumbling about finding a bathroom. “It’s that way,” he points them in the right direction with his chin to his chest, and they both giggle and pull a 180 in the hall.

Peter turns back to is phone, “You’re not interrupting anything, May-“

“So, you both finished?” She asks, “I taught you to be considerate, Peter. I hope you didn’t-"

“Aunt May!” Peter shrieked in embarrassment, “Why- is this the reason you called?”

She laughed again, but gave him a break, “It’s just getting late. Wanted to know if you were _coming_ home tonight.”

Peter knew he was redder than a tomato, “If you keep this up, May. When the time comes, I’m not putting you in a home, I’ll just leave you on the street.”

Still laughing she says, “Like I wouldn’t be a senile old’ Queen of the streets.”

Peter guessed he had to agree. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled.

“No, but really. You coming home tonight? You got class in the morning.”

“I…I’m…” he turned to the closed door behind him, “I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up.”

“Good night then, Pete.”

“Night May.”

Peter slunk back into the room and searched the desk in the corner of the room for a paper and pen, scribbling his actual phone number and not the burner phone he only ever used when out as Spider-Man even if May had the number to it and used it for unsanctioned calls like tonight. He folded the paper in his hand and moved to wake Wade up.

“Hey,” Peter whispered as Wade blinked up at him sleepily.

“Hey,” Wade grumbled wiping at his tired eyes then sits at the edge of the bed to pull his pants up.

“I, um, got to be heading out, but I just wanted to give you this.” He hands over the paper, rubbing the back of his neck. “Its just my number, but if you ever wanna, I don’t know, talk or something-“

“Is this your real number?” Wade huffs, then looks up at Peter. “I don’t even know your name.”

Blushing, “It’s Peter.”

“Look, you don’t have to do this I know a pity fuck when I see it-“

“No, that’s not what it was, I think I really like you-“

Wade laughed out loud. “You don’t even know me, kid.”

“I’m not a kid, I’m 24,” Peter wrinkled his nose, “And what’s wrong with wanting to get to know the real Wade Wilson?”

Wade looks at him blankly and gestures to his face.

Peter leans down and kisses him again, this time soft and sweet. But Wade still gasps into his mouth, still makes Peter’s heart feel like hummingbirds. He rests his forehead against Wade’s.

“You’re real weird you know that?”

He can’t help but smile. “I do.”

“Well, while you’re in the mood for making bad decisions want a ride home?”

Peter stood straight, “You have a car?” In what world he? Wade didn’t seem the type to tolerate traffic.

Wade laughed, “A motorcycle.” Makes sense.

“I didn’t know Deadpool had a bike?”

“Stole it from a frienemy who stole it from his own frienemy. It was a special occasion and I wanted to ride in style, not hoof it like usual.”

Peter shrugged, “I’d rather not hoof it back to Queens, so sure.”

“Sure?”

“Sure sure.”

“Sure sure sure?”

Peter stuffed his hands in his front pockets and nodded because otherwise they’d be here all night.

Wade grabbed the image inducer off the floor where Peter hadn’t noticed it, and he slid it on, a startling beautiful face replacing the one Peter wanted to see.

“Well, lets go them Petey-Boy,” Wade stood up and Peter kinda followed him in a daze, sliding his hand into Wade’s as they waited for the elevator. The raging party behind them didn’t seem to notice.

And when Wade pushed Peter up against a wall in the elevator and kissed him giddy, Jarvis didn’t protest.

The motorcycle was some sort of chopper, not that Peter had any frame of reference for two wheeled- or four wheeled- vehicle brands. It just wasn’t a sport bike. Wade pulled a helmet out of the bags on the side and Peter let him put it on him, smiling when the clasp clicked together.

“Where in Queens we headed Sweetcheeks.” He asked as he pulled up the GPS on his phone.

Peter gave the address and Wade slid onto the bike first. Peter tried to be half as cool as Wade looked but he fumbled into his seat.

He had no choice but to hold around Wade’s waist for dear life when the thing came to life with a loud growl and rumble of engine. The ride was fast. Sliding between traffic, even if Wade didn’t run any red lights. Or if he did, Peter didn’t notice from his hiding spot in Wade’s neck.

It was nice place. Warm. Wade scented. Soft against Peter’s mouth. A pulse jumping against his lips, tongue, and teeth.

By the time they pulled up to Peter’s apartment, Peter was good and distracted. He could feel Wade panting, and the man reached back to cradle Peter’s head as he sucked marks just under the neckline of the inducer he’d pushed up. He was so distracted he didn’t even hear the front door open, or the footsteps approaching. In fact, he almost didn’t even hear someone clear their throat right beside him.

Wade and Peter, both, jumped in surprise, and Peter almost melted into nonexistence when he recognized Aunt May. “Oh god,” Peter groaned.

“Evening boys,” May smirked like a fox in the hen house. “You have a fun night?”

“May, I thought you said you were going to bed.”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” she said sweetly, then she turned to Wade, “Thank you for driving him home by the way. My name’s May.”

Wade smiled charmingly, his inducer making the smile almost violently attractive, “Wade,” he offered his hand, May taking it kindly, not blinking twice.

Peter clumsily scooted off the motorcycle, “It’s getting late maybe we should-“

“You want to come up for coffee, Wade? I can make a fresh pot and bust out the baby books so we can give Peter an aneurism.” Wade laughed out loud.

“Why do you hate me?-“

“I’d love to stay, but got an early morning. I moonlight as a Superhero and I got some shiz to do bright and early in the morning,” Wade said easily.

“Oh you’re meeting Peter again in the morning?”

“May!”

“What? I was joking!” May said quickly and Wade laughed again. Rolling his eyes, Peter unclipped the helmet, holding it to his chest like a lifeline, he might need it if May really intends to pull put the baby books.

“I wish I could, but I think Petey-pie here wants me to head out soooo,” he shrugged.

“Peter,” May frowned at him.

Peter couldn’t help but blink, did May really want Wade to come up to the apartment? She didn’t even know him.

Turning to Wade, “You’re more than welcome to come in, really. I’m just not a fan of the baby books.”

“Hey, I scrapbooked the hell out of those things.”

“But why does every photo you used have to have me in them?” Wade busted up laughing again, even wheezing near the end when he ran out of breath. Peter couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips up, or the blush when May noticed.

She reached out and patted his shoulder, “It was very nice to meet you Wade, I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I’m going to go get out of the cold, you are more than welcome to follow if you want.” Then she leaned over and gave Wade a warm hug before heading up the stairs to the front door and heading in, leaving Peter on the sidewalk, and Wade on his motorcycle.

There was a moment of eye contact where Wade was still reeling from May’s ‘charms’ but when he finally looked over, he was smiling. “I think I like her.”

“You’re not the first.”

He shrugged, “I guess not.”

“You want to come up?”

“I really do have an early morning.”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, um, so do I.” He held out the black helmet in his arms and Wade took it and put in the side bag thingies. “You’re gonna call right?” Peter blurted.

Wade looked a little startled but he nodded, “Yeah kid, I’ll call you- or text- maybe I’ll text.”

Peter smiled, “Good.”


End file.
